The One Thing I can't Live Without
by Zero'sOnlyDragon
Summary: All she wanted to do was grab a cup of tea. Instead, Lucy fell, broke a mug, had a one-sided row with Lockwood, cut her hand and had confessed her feelings in the worst way possible. Ghost touch seemed more inviting than facing the Grinning Boy. Locklyle.
1. Her Emotions

It was a fine day in London that evening. One of the few days that it was slightly sunny, with little sky coverage. A small breeze waft through the air, rustling trees and bushes. Kids played in the streets like they used to while adults chatted while shopping or taking a leisurely stroll. It almost made it seem like there was no Problem at all in London and that everything was normal. Haunting Calls for the larger agencies in London were very few in number, and for the smaller agencies, even fewer were dispatched, however, the normal hustle and bustle still applied to the large urban town.

However, 35 Portland Row was stiller than a hill in winter. The house seemed like it was abandoned and left to rot due to the lack of movement. The dust that covered house was still. The windows lay opened, but no light nor movement came from inside. The light that poured into the living room was dim since the house faced south instead of west. I lay on the couch in the living room, drawing to my heart's content on this fine day. My back pressed against the armrest, facing the tall, navy blue armchair with a sleeping teen rather than the chimney.

George had left early that morning, his ongoing search for the solution to the Problem thriving in his mind (and on the thinking cloth). As of late, his findings had become more and more inconsiderable. He would come back on his free days ranting about something Fitties had done, like when they checked out the clippings in the archives dated in the 1990's. Except, they only checked out all of the murders and hauntings in that time. Ever since our visit from our not-so-friendly neighborhood London agency boss, things like this have been popping up everywhere for the agents of Lockwood and company. Even Kipps was dealing with his jabs from Penelope Fitties. But, we have managed to survive a few months through, what I like to call, The Penelope Blockade or PB for short.

Kipps didn't like the title, but I was able to receive praise from Holly. Speaking of Holly, she was off visiting family over in Cardiff for a few days. It was very quiet and a bit dusty without her constant upkeep of 35 Portland Row. I was a bit sad when I heard she was leaving for a bit. Although we still had our ups and downs, I had gotten so used to having her around even her leaving for a bit pricked at my heartstrings. It was nice to have another girl in the company to talk to, and I wish I would have realized that sooner rather than later.

And then there was Lockwood.

He slept in the armchair I faced, bangs covering his face while the other half was bathed in the faint evening light coming in, all of his facial features looked so calm and peaceful with his head tilted downward and eyes softly shut. One of his arms rested on the armrest of the chair while the other lay on his lap. His bottom half was covered with a soft, wool blanket. The coat he always had on his person when we went on cases donned his sleeping figure. He wore a tan sweater under his long coat that crumpled in his position, one I wished I was wearing.

Yes, the day was rather nice, but the draft in the large house was very nasty. Holly and I had recommended insulation these past few months, but Lockwood refused, saying that the draft helped us acclimate to miasma and cold chills during cases. We both knew he was lying, but we never pressed on after that. Lockwood was Lockwood after all and he still was the same mysterious boy we all knew and loved. However, at this moment in time, I regretted not pushing the handsome brunette in front of me.

I looked down at my light aqua sweater over a white spaghetti strap and cursed. It also didn't help that I wore a skirt with stockings, and hadn't bothered to grab a blanket from the closet in the basement. The only warmth I had was on my neck. My hair was getting long again, and I was due for a trim. My cold right hand gripped my pencil tightly, reminding my frozen body part that the object was there. My sketch pad rested in my lap, and all I could hear was the small scrap of my pencil against the page and the chattering of teeth.

The chattering came from the skull, which rested in the kitchen behind me. I pondered the skull's behavior of that day as I drew. He had been rather quiet the entire morning and most of this fine afternoon. It was very unusual for the Chatty Cathy skull, but suspicion was far from my mind as my hand flew across the pad, etching in every single detail I saw. I hadn't known what I was drawing until I had the basic sketch on the page. I kept looking up, pausing to drink in the detail, and turning back to the lead on the thick paper. I kept at it as quickly as I could, while the light still shone on his face. Looking back at the pad, and then up ahead once more, I declared the drawing finished. I closed the pad and took it with me to the kitchen.

Moving from the couch to the kitchen, I felt my body warming and the cold cracking with the strides I made toward the stove. Setting the drawing pad on the thinking cloth, I put the kettle on and I looked to the cupboards. Sighing, and opened the one on the far right. The one with several tea boxes inside. Each member in Lockwood and Co. had their own tea box. Even Kipps. Although, we had a big earl gray box for cases. Lockwood usually picked off the earl grey (he drank it plain). George was a black tea person with pounds of sugar poured inside. I, personally, preferred chamomile tea with some clover honey.

I stared into the cupboard and groaned. Per George, the tea remained on the top shelf. Usually I just asked Lockwood when he made a cup for himself, so I wouldn't have to make a fool of myself, much to George's (and the skull's) delight. I opened the cupboard underneath and used it as a small stepping stool. I reached with my hand, the tip of it barely snagging the edge of the box.

"I'M BORED!" A raspy voice screamed beside me. It must have sensed the fact that I was already teetering back and forth, trying to get to the box and that I was too distracted to notice its presence. I caught the box, but not before falling to the floor, the bags spilling from the cardboard and onto my lap. I landed on my rump a few inches away from the table, luckily, but impact still hurt. I shot the skull a dirty look as I regained my senses.

Getting up with an angered huff, I rubbed my bottom and gave the skull a rather rude gesture before I went to pick up the bags that had spilt. I wasn't done, picking up half of them before the kettle began to whistle like a mini train. I turned off the stove and began to pick up the rest of the bags. Finishing, I placed the box on the counter, not bothering to reach up there again, I grabbed a mug a tied the tea bag string to the handle.

"I still find how you tie the string around the handle odd." A smooth but groggy voice sounded behind me. Turning, I saw Lockwood in the doorway. His hair was a bit disheveled and his eyes only half open. He reminded me off a kid who had just woken up from a nap, the one I must have woken him from. A smile lay upon his sharp features. I frowned at his comment.

"It's not odd," I stuck my nose in the air, sticking my nose in the air. Lockwood chuckled slightly and walked toward me as I went on preparing my tea. He ruffled my hair as he passed me. I glanced over to my side and saw that he had put my tea box away to grab his own and take out a bag. I turned my attention back over to my pouring of hot water and winced when the water hit my finger. I stuck my finger into my mouth quickly, and kept pouring.

"On a different note, good morning Lucy." I paused, replaying the sentence he had just uttered before correcting him.

"Lockwood, it's almost 5 o'clock." I finished preparing my tea and turned around to face him. He was staring at the clock, his brows pulled inward, creasing his forehead.

"Was I out that long?" His tone sounded perplexed as his head turned my way. I giggled in slight amusement.

"Since you came back yesterday night from the burners, you've been immobile. Even George actually tried to wake you." He moved my way and grabbed the kettle, mug in hand and poured himself a cup. I stared at his face a bit. Last night he had come back from a very rough case and what's worse is that he went alone. George thought it would be a type one, but he was wrong as it turned out to have been a type two. George thought he would have had enough sense to leave.

But again, Lockwood is Lockwood.

In my distracted thoughts, I had failed to see him glance my way.

"Staring is rude, Luce." I blinked and his dashing smile came into few. He was only a few inches away from my face, which felt like it was boiling. As I looked up, looking like a deer caught in headlights, his smile widened. God, he was handsome. Even I, Lucy Carlyle could admit that. The way his lips curved into his eyes, the way his cheeks dimpled, how his dark eyes lit up with all sorts of emotion... I huffed, puffing out my cheeks, trying to dismiss my girly thoughts. I only allowed myself to think these things in the privacy of my room.

"Well, I was thinking, not staring. So there." I took a sip of my tea and turned to face the table instead of Lockwood, my back leaning on the counter side. I could feel Lockwood's gaze as he waited for his drink to settle, pondering what he should say next. I waited, taking small sips here and there before he finally spoke up.

"It's about last night, isn't it?" He asked me, staring off into the room same as I did. I bit my lip, wondering if I should lie, but chastised myself to tell the truth.

"Yes" I took another sip, looking at the rim of the cup, waiting for the next reply. I heard a small sigh escape Lockwood. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him shake his head. I knew that shake, and immediately my hands tightened around my cup.

"Lucy, I was perfectly fine-" I tried to let him finish, but my mouth and ears weren't having it. I spoke up, cutting him off. It wasn't a yell, but it wasn't a whisper either. As I spoke, my hair fell, hiding my face just enough to provide a small sense of security.

"Lockwood, what on earth were you thinking?" I couldn't see him, but I knew that he was staring at me incredulously. The room lay dead silent, not even the skull had bothered to stir at my shaky voice. I heard his breath hitch for a moment before he spoke.

"Luce, I don't follow." I still felt his gaze. His dark eyes looking my way and drilling a hole into my side of my skull.

"Lockwood you were dealing with a highly malevolent type two cold maiden. You could've been ghost touched or worse, killed. Why didn't you leave, or at least called for backup? The case wasn't that far from here and the skull could sense the bloody ghost from here." My knuckles were white from gripping the mug. A little more and it would have probably-The mug split into my hand, cutting the side of my palm. It wasn't loud, just a small crack and small plinks as the cold clay pieces and remaining tea hit the ground. I didn't notice at first, I just kept on reaming Lockwood.

"We can't be Lockwood and Co. without you, dammit! You never think about how we would feel if we had to be the ones to deal with your ghost! I left to make sure I'd never hurt you, but you ended up throwing yourself into worse situations! I come back and nothing's changed at all! Even Kipps is getting worried for you! Holly's been biting her nails, George has been getting less and less sleep, and I haven't been able to stop bloody thinking about you since you showed up at my small apartment months ago!" I didn't know when I had started to tear up, heck I didn't even know I was crying, maybe it was before the mug broke, but I believe it was when I mentioned him coming back as a ghost. Even saying the thought was enough to hurt me.

Why?

Well, I knew I had feelings for Lockwood ever since day one of meeting the charming teen next to me. I would never have admitted it to myself then, but after Aickmere's and the trip into the beyond, I couldn't get him off my mind. Which led to thinking about him and all his quirks. The way he would nibble slightly on the end of his pen when he was in deep thought. The childlike way he would hide George's glasses in the morning. Or even when he ran his fingers through his hair when he was worried or tired.

It took me a while to see why I was thinking of him so much. Why my face felt three times hotter when he praised me. Why my stomach lurched when he responded to George's comment about the Persian lights. Why his bright grin always made my lips curl into a smile and my skin feel like it was bathed in sun's rays. Why I regarded his opinion above anyone else's.

I was in love.

 _But, I wasn't about to tell him that._

I took a moment to render what I had said.

 _Actually, I may have already subtly said it._

… _I still wasn't about to say it out right any time soon._

Snapping out of my thoughts, I stole a look at Lockwood through my hair. I blinked a few times, my vision blurred. He wasn't there. I looked around the room and saw him looking at my sketchbook. He was flipping through all of the drawings I drew of him. I froze, looking at his face. I don't think he had seen me, or was even listening to the last part of my spiel. He hadn't listened to a word. Not a word. He flipped through the book, his eyes widening with every picture.

"Luce, why are all these drawings o-" He glanced up at me, seeing my face. The tears streaming down my face from when I spilled out my worries. His face went from confused to horrified. I had never, ever cried in front of anyone. I had never broken down, or shed a tear in the company, not even when I had left. I refused to show that kind of weakness. In my emotional state, I hadn't realized I was crying until his expression became worried.

"L-Luce?" I looked down, wiping my cheeks with my thumb. I took one step before snatching the sketchbook out of his hands. I didn't get half way through the kitchen door before my arm was grabbed, jerking me back to face Lockwood. I didn't look at him.

"Luce, those drawings are the- your hand!" I glanced at my hand at his gasp, blood dripping down the tips of my fingers. I stung now that I paid attention to its presence. Luckily it wasn't the hand I had used to grab the book out of Lockwood's hands. However, I wouldn't have cared, nor did I care about my hand. I was livid. He didn't bother to listen to me talk, he didn't even have the decency to look at me as I talked, and he looked at my sketches without my permission. All I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cease to exist. Perhaps if I wanted to disappear, I should have a better reason that'll give me more time to be alone.

"The drawings, Lockwood? You want to know about the bloody drawings?! I'll tell you what, you really don't care what you do. No matter how much we try to tell you. You are so dense, I can't even begin to explain. So you want to know what the drawings are. Do you?" He didn't speak. He didn't answer. I yanked my arm away, throwing away any cup shards that still remained in my hand. Turning around, I walked toward the stairs and stopped just before I began to start my trek up to the attic loft. I was going to leave a mark. I didn't care if I'd regret it later.

What I hadn't noticed was George had come back early and had been keeping quiet in the doorway throughout my talking. How much he had heard, I still don't know. I took a deep breath, and said the thing that I hadn't ever thought I'd have the guts to say.

"Those sketches are of the one thing I can't live without."

With that, I ran up the stairs, leaving Lockwood confused, hurt, and with an even more confused Cubbins. I reached the loft in record time, locking my bedroom door behind me. My back was pressed against the door as I panted heavily. My hand throbbed as I sat there in the confines of my own room. As the pain began to rise in level, I looked at it. It wasn't going to need stitches, but it was deep enough that would re-open if I wasn't careful. I also noticed small bits of clay stuck to the torn skin. I needed first Aid, but I wasn't about to ask Lockwood for help, nor was I going to go down the stairs to get the kit.

I glanced about the room, my eyes landing on a dirty, sweater I used on cases. Quickly, I ripped the fabric and made a make shift bandage out of it. My hand still stung, but the pain was subsiding a bit. That had to be good, right? I didn't know what to feel, but the emotion that stuck out was hurt. I curled up into a ball on the floor, tucking my legs into my chest. Hours past as I sat there, silently sobbing until I shut my eyes, exhausted from the day's event and all of my emotions.

* * *

 **A/N: This will be a three shot, and the next chapter will be in Lockwood's POV. it'll be a bit smaller in size, and I don't know when i will update this, but it will definitely be before September! IS ANYONE ELSE HYPED FOR THE NEW BOOK OMG! Again, so sorry for the LASP delay. I will try to make it longer for everyone. I am trying to fix mistakes and Make a few changes, not to jurastic, but its still worth a re-read to understand the next chapters fully.**

 **Stay tuned and Thanks for Reading**

 **~Pheonix**


	2. His Guilt

It's been three weeks. Three weeks since Lucy had run upstairs crying. Three weeks of trying to talk to her and being ignored by the one person I want to tell everything to. The one person I'd come back to haunt but never kill. The one person that left for my safety, just to keep me alive.

And now she wasn't even looking my way.

Lucy either went to her room and stayed there, went somewhere with Holly or George, or went on cases alone or with Holly. I was glad Lucy was getting along with her, however, the female rules and gossip were the bane of my existence at that moment in time. I had asked Holly on one or more occasions if Lucy was doing alright, but she just brushed me off or acted like she hadn't heard the question. Holly was on Lucy's side, no doubt. It didn't take a scholar from a top university to figure that out.

Even George was slightly mad at me. He never put me on cases alone anymore, it had to be with either Holly or him. He didn't put me on cases with Luce, and I was starting to believe Lucy had asked George to not pair us together. Though, it was probably George who did it. He had been rather kind toward her, more than usual. He still remained indifferent with me and despite his knowledge of what happened, George had still stuck by my side.

I sighed, my rapier slashing through Floating Joe in a complex ward. The metal ripped the fabric, stuffing rolling out of the dummy. I kept at it, slashing and hacking, practicing every move I had ever learned. I had tossed my coat to the side eons ago and the handle of my two-weeks-new silver rapier was already worn with how much I had practiced every day since Lucy had yelled at me. I knew why George stuck by my side. Why he was only letting himself get a little mad. He knew how torturous it was for me and my new predicament with Luce. Most days, like today, I only left the basement to eat, sleep, use the john, shower, or take a case. I didn't care though. My mind lay elsewhere as I hacked my way through the suspended dummy.

A small tap on my shoulder jolted me out of my thoughts. Quickly, I spun around, my rapier slicing through the warm air around me. I stopped the blade beside a neck, female. I blinked, Holly coming into focus. She wore a worried expression on her face. Her matching powder blue skirt and a powder blue, white polka dotted blouse was cute, but I didn't like the color. A wiped my hand on my face, putting my rapier down by my side.

"Sorry about that Holly, you startled me." She still held her worry gaze on me. Holly and I hadn't gotten along to well in the past three weeks. She was always by Luce's side or cleaning. She really did admire Lucy quite a bit and once the barrier came down, you could practically see the growth in their friendship. It irked me a bit how she immediately took her side upon returning from her mini-vacation, but I never really understood how females worked. She cleared her throat.

"It's time for lunch if you want to eat." She went to the washer and took a load of clothes out as she spoke. "Also George wants to leave early for the case tonight."

I sighed. I hated leaving super early for a case, even if it was the smart thing to do. Yet, my leaving early was probably a good thing for Lucy, so I kept my mouth shut. I flash Holly a strained smile.

"Alright, I'll be right up. Thanks Holl." I saw her give me a pity glance before she marched upstairs with the fresh laundry inside a basket she carried. I wiped the small beads sweat off my forehead. You would think that with all of the practice I was doing my system would be used to it by now. I didn't bother grabbing my coat, I'd have to come down here anyways to get the supplies needed for tonight. Instead, I trudged up the stairs. I may not have wanted to eat, I had to. It was essential to my health and as an Agent I couldn't let something like Lucy to derive me from being the best I can be.

How else could I protect her- Them.

I meant them. Yes. All of Lockwood and Co. Kipps, begrudgingly, included. I shook my head, a small headache rising with each step I took. These thoughts had flown through my head frequently during the hours I was unoccupied. I'll admit my mind had been worse when she left, and even now these thoughts were no better than the ones I had managed to conjure up in the four months, twenty-two days, and five hours Lucy had been away from the company. Not that I had been keeping track during that time or anything...

I slipped upstairs, arriving in the kitchen. The smell of Battered Fish from the Shoppe around the corner waft through the air along with George's homemade Chips. I licked my lips as I searched for the food. It lay on the counter, not manned nor watched. The Fish and Chips along with biscuits and a few other items that appealed to the eyes and nose. My eyes glanced around the room, trying to spot any unsuspecting eyes. Gingerly, reached my hand over, going to grab a small chip from the tray. Almost...

Immediately, I jumped back, yelping aloud in pain while rubbing my hand. I looked straight at my offender. There stood George in a baby blue polo shirt with a few grease stains. His bangs draped atop his glasses which held the glare of the afternoon sun shining from the windows. If I hadn't known George, I would have been scared. No, I wasn't scared. I wasn't scared at all.

I was terrified. More terrified than losing my sight could ever scare me. Sure it probably wasn't the thing I was absolutely terrified of, but it came pretty dang close.

"What on Earth do you think you were doing, Lockwood?" A small sadistic smirk rose its way onto George's face. I didn't know what to say, but luckily, I didn't have too. A sweeter than sweet voice sounded behind me, making my hairs stand on end. Not out of surprise, but out of a small longing of the voice I had been denied for three long weeks, which was even worse than the four months I gone without it.

"He was only trying to check if the food was warm, on my orders." I didn't turn around, but I didn't have to imagine her face and her position. She was leaning on the doorway, facing the both of us. Her hair was falling onto her shoulders, arms crossed, that Carlyle smile across her lips. Only her tone of voice was available to me in my current stone like position, but I just knew. George looked from Lucy to me, skeptical. I knew she was lying to save me an ear full. He knew she was lying to save me an ear full. But instead of doing so, he just turned heel, back facing us.

"Lucy, you should know by now that all the food I put out on the table is fresh. And go get some rest, you look terrible." I could hear a soft smile play on his lips, but I couldn't be sure what it was for. The fact that I had tried to steal food, or the fact that Lucy had lied for me. I ran my fingers through my hair. I didn't want to face her and spook her into not speaking again. Yet, there was something that made me want to turn around and beg for her forgiveness. I knew I wouldn't beg, begging was something I had forgotten how to do at an early age, but I certainly wanted to try to make amends.

Footsteps began to lead toward me. I tensed. What if I made a mistake? What if I did something to hurt her again? I couldn't live with much more of this silence. There was a hesitation, and I could her small breaths sounding behind me, breathing rhythmically, trying to keep calm. I waited for her to say something toward me, anything. Instead, I got nothing but the footsteps receding. I turned my head, just enough to see her fleeing form. Her boots gliding along the floors and up the stairs. Small tiny twinkles came down from her face as she ran up the stairs. Her hair trailing behind her. I stared at the empty staircase from where I stood, turning my body to face it. Her tears were like stars falling from her face. I hated to see them fall, but at the same time, they were beautiful in their own mysterious way.

Again, I ran my fingers through my hair. I needed to stop these thoughts. They were unbecoming of an Agency Leader. I couldn't think this way about a colleague. Even if she was feisty and stood out among every maid and damsel that had crossed my path. Lucy was certainly no maid and not at all a damsel in distress. She could hold her own, cook, find sources, and, granted not often, clean. She was practically the perfect woman in terms of skill. However, it wasn't the skill I admired about her. It was her passion to find out the unknown, and even her drive to keep her friends safe. I had noticed these things the moment she walked into my office that day we were looking for another agent. She had a small fire in her eyes, and the way she handled the sources...

I pinched and smacked the sides of my face. I really needed to stop daydreaming about something that I could never reach nor understood.

I waited in the kitchen, slumping into my chair, and making small swirls and curly cue letters to keep myself slightly entertained. Eventually Holly and George came into the kitchen to join me for lunch. We all sat around the thinking cloth, discussing the cases for tonight. Apparently Holly and Lucy had a case as well to cover. And as soon as she was mentioned, Lucy clouded my thoughts. I was thankful she wasn't here, or I might have stared at her, like I was currently toward her chair. Luce hardly ever came down for meals anymore. George normally brought food for her, but on rough days, Holly did it. I refused from bringing it to her. Not because I was mad. I could never really be mad at Lucy, I may have gotten irritated with her disregard for her own safety in the past, but that was a rational irritation. I just didn't want to upset Luce more... That's all. That had to be all. It had to be...

Oh, why did I go and ignore her?

Maybe it was because I had grown accustom to Georges ramblings and it was on the same scale. Maybe it was the fact that I had heard the stop launching into danger spiel before. Maybe it was because I didn't want to consider myself a hypocrite, saying that they shouldn't risk their lives in the field and be more careful even though I am practically doing the same. I didn't know. I remember that last things she said, just before I asked my question about the drawings.

The drawings were another thing on my mind. They were all perfectly drawn. All in different places and settings of cases or times here at home. All of me doing something in my every day. Times that I had sneaked looks at her while she drew fervently, trying to catch some type of detail. I had never seen her drawings before that day, so naturally I was curious. What I found was not creepy at all, but rather heartwarming.

All the time she took to getting each detail perfect to remember it later on. The time she took with each one. It was fascinating to see, and even more fascinating to realize the object of her countless drawings was of me. My mind drove back into the words she spoke before she bounded up the stairs three weeks ago. Words that I knew held some type of heart retching intent, but instead left me confused as to what she meant by them.

 _Those sketches are of the one thing I can't live without._

If my eyes had been a magnifying glass for the sun, I'd have burnt a hole in Luce's chair by now. For the second time that evening I shook my head to clear my thoughts. This time, I was met with a very puzzled George with a quizzical grin on his face. He snickered a bit, as I quickly averted my gaze to look anywhere other than that blasted chair and his blasted face.

"I think Lockwood fancies the chair, what do you think Holly?" Holly shrugged. I could tell by the way she clenched to her fork that she was still unhappy with me.

"I think he should stop looking at the chair longingly and start apologizing to it already." I groaned both internally and externally.

"Look, when she is ready to hear an apology, I'll go, but do you think I haven't already tried to apologize?" I had actually tried to apologize an hour after she rushed to her loft. She didn't answer the door. She probably wasn't even listening, just to prove a point. A point that she is still continuing to prove by not speaking to me. I sighed heavily, finishing my meal that was now rather cold. The dumb house draft was really beginning to bother me as well as my colleagues.

"She isn't that kind of girl, Lockwood. You need to show her you're sorry." Holly huffed. I didn't like her tone. My thoughts mixed with her questions pricked at my mind. I snapped at her, slightly irritated.

"I can't even get close to her to do so!" My voice was not loud, but it was sharp. I dropped my fork, and picked up my plate. "I see what you two are trying to do, but when Lucy wants me to apologize I will. It's her call." George sniffed behind me. Holly's tone was frustrated.

"It isn't Lucy's call. You know fully well. You're just trying to avoid confrontation. Earlier, you could have tried to apologize, but why didn't you? Don't you see Lockwood, you're not even sorry at all. If you were, you would be by her door, waiting for her to come out! If you ever felt an inkling of a feeling toward her you would have-" I turned around to face her, my hair bouncing with my steps. I didn't care if Holly was my friend or employee, I wasn't going to be told I had no regard for Lucy. Why that angered me, I didn't know. Why I even felt backed up into a corner when the solution was obvious, I didn't know. What I did know, I was up to my breaking point in all of this.

"I would have what Holly! I'm tired of hearing I should have done something else! It's all I've been hearing for months! I know I'm reckless, I know I am sentenced to die an early death, I know-" I was cut off by a hand slamming down on the table. I was rendered speechless, but it wasn't Holly's mouth that spoke.

"IF YOU KNOW EVERYTHING THEN HOW DO YOU THINK WE FEEL ABOUT THAT?!" I was interrupted, not by Holly, but by George. His curly locks was a bit disheveled and he was standing up now, facing me. His eyes were shone from the glint of his glasses. I could see the anger boiling inside of him as it was me. I didn't know what was happening. I did this, I know I did, but I didn't know how. Why did I want to apologize so badly? Why did I hate that I couldn't talk to her? Why did I feel so frustrated over this!

"I DON'T KNOW EVERYTHING! IF I DID I WOULDN'T BE IN THIS BLOODY MESS AND SO BLOODY CONFUSED!" I yelled back, trying not the drop my dish on the floor in my small tantrum. "If I knew everything, Lucy would still be talking to me. If I knew everything, I would know how to deal with this. If I knew everything, I would know what the drawings meant. If I knew everything, I would know why I feel the way I do toward her!" My face scrunched up as I exploded. I felt heat rise to my face, my skin feeling like a boiling kettle that was ready to be taken off the burner. George was stone-faced as he stared at me. During my tantrum, Holly had fled up the stairs. My guess was to tell Lucy not to worry or panic, but I wasn't paying attention to that at the moment. I doubt I was paying attention to anything by my anger at the time.

"You love her."

All at once, I felt the heat leave my body. I didn't quite catch what he said.

"What?" George took off his glasses and began to clean them with the edge of his stained first.

"You love Lucy. It's obvious Lockwood. I don't need to have the best sight in London to know that." I didn't know how to respond. Love? That wasn't possible. I couldn't be possible. How could I hurt her if I loved her? There had to be other explanations to why I felt the need to protect her. Why I wanted her to stick by my side.

"George, be serious." He huffed at my response. I almost huffed back, but I was trying to be serious.

"I am." I gave him an incredulous look, almost laughing hysterically at his accusation. "Hasn't there ever been a time where you were around her, feeling something you couldn't explain? Some type of anger, sadness, happiness; and it was only around Lucy?" I was about to speak when I had begun to realize he was right. My eyes began to widen and heart began to quicken. George and I hadn't heard the ruckus upstairs, but we certainly heard someone slam into the wall in panic. We turned our attention to the doorway and there stood Holly, panting. Her hair was disheveled and her shirt crinkled. She had lost a shoe on the way down in her rush. I looked at the expression on her face...

Then everything stopped.

"It's... L-Lucy. Sh-she-"

I didn't wait to hear Holly's explanation or for her to even speak. I leaped passed her, skipping three, no four steps on my run up the stairs. Time seemed to slow and my steps felt so slow. Why was my heart beating so fast? Why was I worried to the point that I felt that I was about to have a heart attack? Why was scared to see what I would find? Thousands of things flashed through my mind. Most of them revolving around what George had just informed me.

Perhaps that was why my heart quickened when she grabbed my hand. Maybe that's why I felt a disregard for my own safety so long as she was OK. Maybe that's why I noticed the things I did about her. How she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous. How she bit her nails when she was worried. How right before she started to laugh, her nose would give a slight twitch, almost like a bunny would. The way her finger tapped the air up and down right before she grabbed a hold of her rapier.

I remembered back to when I had grabbed Lucy's hand in the woods outside of Aldbury Castle. It was a comforting motion I didn't realize that I did it. Twice at that. I remember wanting her close, just in case, during the Aldbury case. I had almost thought she was mad, even though it was just because of the ghost. I always flared up when she was mentioned in a negative way. My cheeks had even started to tint a pale pink whenever she caught me staring at her, or when she smiled her signature grin. Quizzical or not, it was quite cute. I always wanted to make her smile. I wanted her near me. I got protective and mad over her to insane degrees.

Finally, I reached the landing, a hand in my hair. There Lucy was, laying halfway in the doorway and halfway out. Her arm was cushioning her head while the other was up near her head. She looked almost like she had just passed out on the floor. A small cup of tea was in the hand and had spilt on the floor. The tea bag wrapped twice around the handle. I practically slid over to her, looking over her, wondering what was wrong. I reached out to touch her forehead, but flinched back. She was burning up. Then, something struck me as I stared at her figure.

Her hand was wrapped in cloth. Small flecks of red dotting the fabric.

Gently, I unwrapped her hand, gasping at what I saw. The cut, the one I had noticed, was extremely infected, puss on the inside of the wound. I hadn't healed properly and was re-open, only slightly bleeding. I knew she kept to her room, so she was hardly drinking enough water to sustain the depletion of blood that she probably lost a lot of. I wished I had turned around earlier and noticed. Quickly, I lifted her of the ground bridal style and hurried as much as I could downstairs. As I traveled, I looked at her face. She really was a sight to behold. Her lips parted slightly and her hair fell elegantly around her cheeks as she breathed softly. I clutched her close to me as I sped out the house, heading toward the hospital. I didn't quite know why I was headed there, but it seemed like the safest option at the moment.

A mile, two miles, three miles, I kept running. My legs screamed for me to stop, but I couldn't until she was OK. I had already failed as a friend by ignoring her. I didn't want to fail like that on a larger scale. I tried not to look down at her as I ran. Her face was beautiful in slumber, calm and peaceful. Why wasn't I there! I should have noticed before it got this bad! Gritting my teeth, I found I was getting distracted, but I couldn't help it. I fell in love, found her ill, and blamed myself for it happening.

There's the other thing. I was in love. Now, I doubt I could even tell her that after this incident.

Cursing under my breath, I rushed on, bounding down the streets of London. I never broke stride, not even once. My breathing was labored and I wanted to pass out, black specks dotting my vision, but I didn't dare stop. I gave it my all, seeing the tip of the hospital needle. St. Bartholomew's windows glinted and shined on the large city. I had not noticed the small tear running down my face before the hospital was in full view. The door was opened and white blonde hair and purple eyes (probably contacts, but I didn't stop to ask) exited the building. She stared at me with a sad smile on her face as I blew past her. Once inside, Apparently, George and Holly had taken a Taxi and were already getting her a room. The ladies at the desk were quick to get her to the back and flag down a doctor to help. We weren't allowed to go in with her, at least not while the doctor worked so we plopped down on a chair and waited for the news. I hung my head in the chair, resting my head on my closed fists that where propped against my knees. Even with all the practice, I was still tired. Even with all of the things I had lost, I was still bleeding over a small fever and infection.

I was terrified. And that wasn't even a piece of the emotions that coursed through my veins.

* * *

 **A/N: AAAAHHHHHHH! The new book was released yesterday here and I have barely started. I may be on a small hiatus for a week to read it. OK, this story was way different than I had imagined. I actually planned this story to be about the drawings and not Lockwood's dense and reckless nature, but I suppose I can do the drawings in a separate one shot. The next chapter will be full of fluff due to the drama I have created. Balance is key. I did some research and yes, a viral fever can be created through bacteria (infection). The fabric was more of the bacterial carrier, than the clay bits, but the clay pieces helped in keeping the wound open and allow for infection, especially if she wasn't careful. Being distraught, she wasn't. And Yes I made Lockwood oblivious (which he is, in all honesty). Feel free to point out any mistakes.**

 **Shout outs to Lucewood, Demonsarelife, and VioletPG for reviewing the last chapter!**

 **Lucewood: Thank you for the praise, though it may get to be a bit sappy next chapter, Sorry! I can't entirely leave this story with an angsty end chapter. Just doesn't seem like something Lockwood would do after his realizations.**

 **Demonsarelife: I think the suicide part isn't in Lockwood's character, but a Ghost touch to safe Lucy is, so I may tweak the Idea a bit. And Holly isn't a bad character. If you think about it, she really never posed a threat to Locklyle in the first place, Lucy was just so jealous that it seemed like that.**

 **VioletPG: Thank you so much! and I feel the same way about the Book!**

 **I am so sorry about the delay in LASP, but I've been looking over the chapter so many times and it still isn't to my liking. I've re-written it five times over and have also I lost of my progress (damb Microsoft and fan fiction and their non automatic save systems) once or twice (three times on each). I will post it as soon as I can.**

 **So Stay tuned and Thanks for Reading!**

 **~Pheonix**


	3. Their Resolution

I didn't hear much after I fell. the wind bat at my face. Someone was carrying me. Who was it? I remember blurs of colour and a bright grey sky, but nothing more. White walls and light blue flashes passed through my head as my eyes fluttered open and shut as the large breeze continued to pass over my face. I felt warm. How warm was I? I had no clue. All that I remember next is conversations. Mostly male voices, but sometimes there was the occasional female voice that broke the room silence. Sometimes, there was even a bit of crying that broke the constant silence of the hours I was there. I lay still. I could hear the voices around me, but I couldn't open my eyes. My body retaliated every time I tried to get myself to move.

Minutes, Hours, Seconds, Days, weeks: I didn't know how much time had passed as I lay there. I began to lose track of it, reminding me of the time I ran into the world of the dead, Lockwood at my side. My mind wandered out as I tried to make sense of the world around me. I hadn't stayed very mad. In fact, my anger had probably been snuffed out by the first week. I just could bring myself to face him. He was smart, surely he would have deciphered my message. I doubted he felt the same. I was his very good friend, a loyal colleague. I couldn't mean much more to him. I wasn't the idea girl everyone looks for: Stubborn, sarcastic, acts more than I think, pudgy hips, pointed nose. Beautiful didn't exactly come with my package, and neither did a wife for someone to dote on. Lockwood was far too out of my league, and I knew that.

That's why I was scared to face him.

Once again, I tried opening my eyes. This time I succeeded. And almost immediately, I regretted my decision as my eyes protested against the light. I blinked to try and adjust to the searing pain that struck my eyes and the small headache it gave me. As water pooled and clouded my vision, I almost thought I was in heaven. I may not have believed in a religion, but I did believe in two things: that there was someone who watched over the people and that he sent them to one of three places. Heaven, underground and forgotten, or reborn. It was probably due to my sister, Mary, that I thought what I did. She had always discussed her thoughts about otherworldly beings and how they controlled the lives people lived. It could also have been Jacobs and how he used to talk about how people on Earth controlled their own fates by the choices that they made. How Mother Earth would somehow make them repent for their wrongdoings. There was also the factor of all the books I had read on ascension and multiple religions, just to understand multiple sides of the world. All of them came to the same conclusion. Something outside of mankind did something to keep the balance steady.

But That's not entirely relevant to my story right now, now is it?

I sat up, cotton white sheets rolling off of my chest. I was in a bed. Whose bed, I was unsure. Where I was also unsure. The more I looked around the room the more I realized that it was not a blinding light, nor heaven, just a small room filled with so much white I was starting to wonder if I was in a mental hospital. When I thought about it, the layout of the room reminded me of the hospital room I had stayed in for a few hours while the doctors had checked me up in after the Barn incident. I may have stayed there, but it was only due to my shocked state at the time. Even then I hated hospitals.

The only exceptions to the lack of color were a bunch of balloons in the corner, a box of Choco Leibniz, and a vase with Red Salvia and Willow flowers. My knowledge of flowers was due to a book George had gotten me for Christmas last year after I expressed my drive to fix the garden behind Portland Row. Said book also had meanings to the flowers and what they meant. Sadly, I couldn't remember any of the knowledge at the moment. The bouquet was rather odd, the scarlet and the white, blue flowers contrasting against each other. I began to wonder who they were from.

George wouldn't have brought them, he always thought to bring flowers into a hospital was both cheesy and impractical since people inside the hospital could be allergic. Therefore, he was the lavender and baby blue balloons that floated in the corner. The chocolates were definitely Holly. She was the only person who knew about my addiction to the chocolate covered treats ever since I had grown curious about Lockwood's accusatory remarks against George for stealing his cookies multiple times. I had bought a box for myself to see what all the fuss was about and had gotten hooked on the deliciously sinful sweets. Kipps and I were more very good acquaintances rather than friends, so I doubted it was him. That meant the only person left was…

Oh, I couldn't even think his name without my face flaming up, my heart picking up the pace, or wanting to curse for imaging his smile. I lay back down, staring at the flowers. The Willow petals curled, like my stomach whenever he even glanced my way. The multiple blossoms of the Salvia representing the many times my heart had increased speed or skipped a tap around him. Sighing, I lay, stared and drifted back to the thoughts I had before I had 'Woken up'.

I was scared that the friendship we shared would disappear and awkwardness would sneak into the once comfortable silence we could share when Lockwood and I were alone. I couldn't draw him now, not without him realizing it. I doubt we could go on cases anymore if the feelings were too strong and compromised the mission. The few weeks I had thought and thought did a number on my mood and sanity. George had brought up the skull and I would talk to him about it. The skull was adamant that Lockwood felt the same way, and how I was oblivious to this, but I wasn't sure. I had hoped, thinking of the times he had done things beyond his normal character that would count as flirty. How much had he done that exactly? How many times had I never took notice until an ectoplasmic entity had pointed it out?

Maybe there was a world in which Lockwood felt the same, a different time in which I gained a happy ending. Maybe a world in which the problem had never started and we had just met. A world where everything was normal. The more I thought about it, the more ludicrous the thought became. If the problem had never arisen, I never would have gotten into sarcastic rows with George, never fought with Holly, never bickered with the skull, never had told Kipps of for calling me, Julie. I would have never met Lockwood in the first place. The events who made us who we are would never have happened. We would be two different people, possibly even enemies if that world were possible.

Suddenly, I heard voices coming from outside the door.

Quickly, I turned back so that I face the white ceiling above me. I pulled the blanket under my arms, relaxing my body as much as I could and steadying my breathing like I did during cases. I didn't know why I wanted to act, but it felt… like something I had to do. I shut my eyes softly, making sure not to give any indication I had been awake before. Not even a few seconds later had the door opened. Two sets of feet entered the room along with two male voices.

"You need to head home. I can watch her today and wait, but you can't continue like this." I heard the frustration in George's voice. There was a shuffle of feet and a sigh.

"George... I need to wait for her. I have to. Please, allow me this." My breathing slightly hitched, but I quickly recovered. I couldn't make any sounds, nor feel anything that could raise my heart rate. And already I could sense that I wasn't doing a very good job since the beeper was bleating just tad bit faster than normal. Another sigh reverberated through the room.

"Fine. You're lucky I don't drag you back to Portland row after your two all-nighters." _Two all nighters?!_ Even for Lockwood, two all-nighters was insane for the body to handle.

 _How many times had he done this while I was 'asleep'?_

"But She has only been asleep for two days." _Well, that answered that question_ , I added in my head.

"Exactly my point. However, If I let you go, you're going to have to tell her. And you know damn well what I mean." Tell me? Tell me what? After that, I heard a muffled fine, footsteps leading away from the bed, and the door close shut. I lay there, not knowing who had left t and who had stayed. There was silence, and then small, striding taps across the room. I tried not to tense at the sound, for they had the exact same pause and sound that I knew by heart. There was a screech against the floor, almost like a chair, that stopped just beside the bed. When was there a chair? Had I not noticed? Granted everything was white so I didn't doubt I missed it.

There was a muffled plop. He had his coat on, then. A sharp intake of breath and a shaky exhale proceeded a shuffle, presumably to get comfortable. It took everything I had not to peak and catch a look. I know now I wouldn't have looked if I had known how much pain was in his eyes at that moment.

"Hey, Luce." Almost as if it was a conversation, I responded mentally.

 _Hi Lockwood_

"The doctor said you should be waking up soon."

 _But I am awake... So why was I asleep in the first place?_

"It was just a fever mixed with major blood loss. You really gave us a scare there," There was a hint of humor in his voice. It was hard not to frown.

 _I'm sorry I scared you all. I didn't mean to. I just-_

"I know you didn't mean to scare us, it just happened. I wish you would have said something, at least to Holly." His voice flickered, and there was a pause. A small sniffle came from him. A small, heartbreaking laugh came from deep in his throat. "You would probably reply sarcastically at that last comment, wouldn't you?"

 _I would have, in any other situation… but not this time._

"I don't entirely know why I did what I did that day. I was fed up, I suppose. I was tired of hearing the thing that made me sound so hypocritical, even if it was your voice who spoke it." I struggled not to bring my eyebrows down into a crease.

 _What do you mean by that last statement?_

"Holly is worried about you, you know? I was unsure why she brought you the cookies, though. She mentioned something about thieving but I didn't hear her quite right. She has been quiet. I think she is blaming herself for this, for not seeing your arm before." I could imagine her, sitting on the couch. Her eyes devoid of emotion. Her look mirroring mine the day I left to London. There was a pang in my chest. Another small laugh came from the boy.

"George has stayed George. He probably blames me, but he won't tell me so. Personally, I can't help thinking this is my fault. If you were awake you would have smacked me for saying that." His laugh grew a bit as he spoke.

 _Damn straight._ Then the laughter receded, replaced by seriousness.

"I wish I would have apologized sooner, or at least tried more than once. I should have listened to you, even if I was fed up. I shouldn't have looked at those drawings without permission. I suppose it doesn't fix anything, saying it now, and not while you're asleep." Another sniff sounded and his voice cracked. I was confused. He had never made that sound before.

"I don't know how George wants me to tell you. Especially since you probably still mad. I don't even know how I am going to start. Maybe I'll begin with memories, yes that could-" A small grunt, "No, too cheesy. Maybe I could just say it? I doubt that either. I'd probably mess it up three simple words in my state." My curiosity was growing. I really shouldn't have been hearing this. But my angel was replaced by the need to hear him finish.

 _What do you want to say?_

"I can't find the words to describe how great you are. You can talk to type three visitors, your the best Listener London will ever see, and you have one hell of a head on your shoulders. Even asleep your one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Your fearless and spunky, funny and serious, cute yet fiery... I can't even bring myself to say that to you awake, let alone like that." His voice had gotten softer with each word. His last sentence barely above a whisper. I'm sure that if there had been a single noise in the room, I wouldn't have heard it. However, there wasn't any sound besides the beating of my own frantic heart and his echoing words I doubted I could ever forget.

"I'm probably the last thing you're looking for." Lockwood drew a pained laughed from his lips. " I have a death warrant, I oblivious to many emotions, and I let this happen. If I couldn't prevent this then what right do I have to even want you by my side?"

My hand was taken into the grasp of shaky fingers, which held my hand up to the object it was pressed against. It was warm, a small drop wetting the side of my hand. I didn't know what was going on, my mind was trying to comprehend everything. I could feel small gasps coming from him.

"I'm so sorry Lucy. I wish I could live up to what you think of me. What they all think of me. I just can't always the stone people think I am. Even I can't handle some things and this… This is a perfect example of things I can't handle. Seeing you like this… here… it's hard to even stay." His voice died away.

Slowly, I began to open my eyes. They were open, yet not blinded before. Without moving, my eyes glazed over to the person holding my hand. Tears staining his pale skin. his face twisted in pain. From what, I would find out. It wasn't very comforting. The charming, charismatic, Joyous Lockwood was no longer himself. I was almost in disbelief that the Bright smile I had come to love over the past two years was gone and replaced with a sorrow I never thought could have been etched into his features.

Before I knew it, my thumb was gently caressing the skin.

His eyes shot open, staring into mine in disbelief, then shock. Sorrow left and was replaced by a blank stare, almost like a child caught in the act. His voice came out breathy and slow.

"Luce?" His voice was softer than before. He released my hand and wiped his eyes quickly with his shirt sleeve. I smiled a bit at his sudden embarrassment. I responded. This time, actually speaking.

"Good morning, Lockwood." He smiled back. Not his bright smile, but his warm smile. The one he only gave me. Lockwood glancing over to a wall clock, and back to me, his smile transforming slowly.

"It's Noon, Luce." There was humour in his voice. I went along with it, enjoying the light atmosphere for now. I gave a small chuckle. Glancing at the time on the clock. He was right.

"So it is." My voice was soft. He shifted in his seat, his head looking down. His cheeks were lightly pigmented and his eyes were staring intensely at the bed sheets. His bangs draped across the side of his face. I couldn't help but adore the way he looked at the moment. He cleared his throat before he spoke, stuttering a bit in the beginning.

"H-how much did you hear?" I thought about what to say.

"How much do you want me to forget?" My answer was met with a bright smile and a soft, tiny laugh.

"So you heard everything then." He looked nervous. His hands fidgeted and his cheeks darkened. I hadn't seen Lockwood like this either. It was rather cute. I want to say it was at that moment, I didn't see him as a boss of a small agency in London fighting against the Problem. He was just Lockwood. He was Anthony. He was the boy that was trapped behind all of the walls he had put up and all the things he thought he had to be. I didn't say anything. Instead, I sat up, scooted toward the edge of one side of the bed, and patted the other side, motioning him to sit down. He looked surprised, but he did so anyway.

We sat in silence for a bit. Tired of silence, I took the initiative to speak.

"Yes, I did." we didn't speak for a little bit after I answered. So much for trying to stop the silence. I didn't look over to him, but I could feel him looking at me.

"So…"

"So."

"You're not… still mad, are you?"

"A little bit, but more for you blaming yourself for my ignorance." He was silent again.

"And, about what I said… after that?" I smiled a bit, turning my head to finally look at the teen beside me. His eyes held flickers of hope, his lips gently parted, his head tilted downward. He was certainly taller than I was. I could have just leaned up and kissed him…

But then, how would I ever prove I loved him?

A kiss could be shared with anyone and not mean a thing. Even words could not mean anything to some. I doubted that any word or kiss would have meant nothing to him, but frankly, no matter how heartwarming it may have been to other people, I didn't want my first kiss to be in a bed. Least not a bed that wasn't mine. Instead, I simply smiled my trademark grin.

"You know, if I hadn't heard it from you, I still wouldn't have believed you thought that way." His face was confused. I giggled a bit. His unused expressions were rather cute.

"what do you mean by that?" His head tilted to the side, reminding me of a Labrador puppy.

"You do remember what I said before, about the drawings? I said they were the one thing I couldn't live without." His eyebrows creased more than before.

"Yes, but all of those drawings were of me." I gave him a deadpan stare, hoping he would catch onto the obvious message I was trying to give to him. His face stayed that way for a few moments, thinking. Suddenly, his face lit up with a red hue and his eyes were wider than the dinner plates that George used for big parties. I laughed aloud, enjoying his revelation. It may have been mean to laugh, but I didn't care, I was too happy to.

"Yes. Yes, they were, Lockwood." I didn't let him say anything else. Instead, I took his hand and entwined my fingers with his. I didn't care about this either. He felt the same way I did, I knew that. He didn't have to say it for me to know. Sure it would have been nice to have conferma-

He took my hand and put it to his lips, the very same one I used to grasp his right hand. His kiss was warm, and it didn't take long for me to realize his lips weren't the only warm thing. My cheeks blazed. His next smile was rather foreign to me. It was a mix between warm and sly, but I couldn't quite pinpoint the emotion. I smiled and leaned my head against his shoulder, our hands falling between us. After that, we didn't speak. We didn't move until a nurse came to check on me. The silence was comfortable. The feeling wasn't something one could just talk about. And while I may have felt so strongly about him, I knew I was still a long way from telling him that.

* * *

 **A/N: THIS TOOK TO LONG TO WRITE MY GOOD FROG. My computer kept deleting all of my progress. I think I had rewritten this chapter over five times over. I was utterly ticked off last night after I had written over 1000+ words and it was all deleted at 1O at night. Not only that but I have been so paralyzed from L &CO's ending that it's been hard to write. I'll admit one thing, I couldn't be sad for the series ending. The last chapter was so satisfying I didn't have anything against where Stroud left it. I wish he could have made more, but It wouldn't be the same if he milked it. However, I'd say the book ended rather well.**

 **As I had said I wasn't going to leave this story very dramatic. And for those who loved the fiery nature of the story, I added enough fluff to lighten the story, but not enough to get an OOC plague or over sweeten the ending. This is the last chapter I will be making for this story, but it is certainly not the Last L &CO short story I'll be making. The series may have ended but I still will continue writing for this ship and for the new people joining the fandom.**

 **Thank you for all the people who reviewed the last chapter! Shout outs to Ligersarecool, PennTheWriter, and Guest!**

 **Penn: Thank you for the feedback! and yes, Lockwood's obliviousness was key to this story.**

 **Liger: Yes the last book was definitely amazing**

 **Stay Tuned and Thank You so Much for Reading!**

 **~Pheonix**


	4. Her Childish Games

**Pre A/N Rant: OMG over 2000 views! Considering I wrote this on a whim at a time I was emotional it was more than I could ever expect from this story. Rest be assured, I have listened to the commentators and how much love for the story it has been getting. So here. It. IS.**

* * *

Only a couple of weeks since the hospital visit and since then, Lockwood and I had kept things between us and the visit null. We hadn't said a word about what happened before Lockwood notified them of my awakening and promptly took me back to Portland Row. The only things that passed between us were small glances and a few warm smiles. In short...

It was beginning to drive me nuts.

Once we got home, it was like he had dismissed everything that he had told me while I was "unconscious". I had been in a temporary recovery time for a week before I could go on more cases, and even then, we were never alone during cases anymore. Holly went with me and George dragged off Lockwood. I had explained that I made amends with Lockwood, but I'm not too sure Holly believed me. Then again, I could hardly get a word in edgewise to either George nor Holly. I had a few small conversations with the Grinning Boy, but nothing past how the other was doing before there was a distraction or one of our colleagues dragged us away. Even during the week I had stayed home, he hadn't come up to see me once.

If it wasn't for the fact that I always caught him staring at me with a longing gaze, I would have thought him to be a liar. But Lockwood had no track record for lying. Not showing people the entire picture was his cup of tea. Any chance he could get he was either behind me or next to me, to which we would be pulled apart by our friends. Maybe that was his doing and asked for it or perhaps an unintentional coincidence, but it was still quite annoying at this point in time.

Not only that but lately... the skulls last words after he spoke to me about Penelope... I had told Lockwood then, but we all believed it to be hogwash. Just another lie in order to thwart us. Yet lately the manifestation had become more adamant that his cause one to pay attention to. I relayed the messages to the group during dinner when the Skull began to grow into an endoparasite out to kill my ears and brain cells. I had known ever since I had said anything about that Lockwood was curious. His eyes would dazzle and glint with the look of curiosity. Every time there was a mystery he would act like a little kid that was just promised any flavor ice cream of his choosing.

It was worrying.

I just knew he had a plan brewing, and just to see if that pesky blight was lying or not. He never left the table without flying into his thundercloud of ideas and going into the basement. Twirling his rapier to and fro against Joe and Esmerelda. He wouldn't come out somedays while others I couldn't get a word in edgewise. George told me that this had become his normal routine while I was... sulking. I don't like to admit I was being childish, no matter how much I was. I had a rather good reason and I still stand by it. Yet as I sat down on my bed, I couldn't help but want to contradict myself.

Was I mad due to the sketchbook?

Why was I mad in the first place?

Becuase he didn't listen to me?

Without a word, I sauntered through the house, ghost jar in hand, and headed out the back door. I made sure to grab my coat as I did so. Looking around to make sure I saw no one, I stepped out the back and into the garden. I followed the stone steps as they lead to a large apple tree. The way the trunk bent was perfect for climbing. I sent the jar beneath the tree, propping it against the autotroph gently. Slowly, but surely, I climbed up the tree, the breeze sending my hair into the air. I had made it a habit of coming out here at least once since I got out of the hospital. Reaching the spot on the tree where the branches fanned out, leaving the perfect spot to sit and lay on a branch, I sat down looking into the distance. The tree wasn't that tall, but I could see down the street for about a mile.

In my scan, I found two doves, resting against a wire. They were propping each other up and keeping warm as the breeze began to chill the once warm air. I found it cute for a few seconds. However, as I gazed at them, an image of Lockwood and I on the hospital bed flashed through my mind. All at once, the cuteness was gone and replaced with a bitter longing for what those birds had. They were free to do what they wanted. Free to fly and go where they pleased. To be with one another as they pleased. As I lay against the branch, I recalled what had happened after Lockwood brought me home.

* * *

 _Lockwood had his arm around my shoulders, smiling at me as we silently trudged up to the doorstep. He rested me against, the house as he opened the door and stepped to the side. I smirked, chuckling as I entered first upon his request. The first to greet me was Kipps, who brushed past me, asking only if I was alright before leaving. I could see a small scowl on Lockwood's lips as he watched Kipps leave. I, however, was touched by the fact Kipps said anything at all. After Lockwood had closed the door, he came back to my side, sliding his arm under mine, making it seem like he was acting like a prop. Yet he moved to hold me too close for either of us to think he was just helping me stand. I could walk just fine, as I had from the hospital to the taxi. Yet as I felt his arm snake along my backside, I found I didn't care that much if he did help me._

 _The nice moment didn't last long, however. Sooner than Lockwood could finish locking his arm around my side, George and Holly burst through the kitchen with pastries and cakes. Their smiles and relieved faces greeted me before their embraces did. Lockwood's arm left my side and the chill that followed the absence of warmth pin pricked at my heart. Holly looked me up and down, practically examining me before telling me I would be on leave for a few days. This would not due, but her and George were adamant. Lockwood even quipped in a tiny bit, saying it would be for the best. I could see George glaring at Lockwood, gears turning in his head. With a sigh, I agreed._

 _Out of the corner of my eye, I saw George look at Lockwood with a hard glare. He muttered something to Lockwood, firm and sure of his words. "You didn't confess, did you?" I was waiting for Lockwood to tell them he did. But as I met his eyes, he didn't say a word. We had never said anything about it. We had never set it in stone. Holly wrapped her arm like Lockwood had around my backside. Yet as she did so I wanted to jerk away. There was a low, silent rumble that came from Lockwood's lips, but I was already being escorted up the stairs before I could hear him. Once we reached my landing, I was brought to my room and sat on my bed. I didn't look up from the floor as I felt my bed sink beside me._

 _"Do you want to talk about what happened at the hospital?" I pondered on telling her for a few moments. What would be the harm in saying I knew Lockwood had some feelings for me, but we never discussed what would happen? And why wouldn't he say something? The more I thought about it, the more somethings made sense. It would create tension in the company. Not only that, but having a special connection with on operative would hinder cases. And if he gets protective, running into chaos on my behalf, he knew I would not be able to handle that. What we... what I wanted would be dangerous in our line of work. After a long while, I merely shook my head. Her gaze lingered on me before she took my hand in hers. "Okay." She spoke softly, not managing to even bring it to her normal pitch. I heard a thud downstairs, and apparently, so did she. I went to get up but was sat back down._

 _"you need rest. I'll go see what's up." I was about to protest, but as I glanced up at her, I knew that it would be for naught._ _Holly held my hand and gave it a firm squeeze before she left back downstairs. I stared at my hand. The same one Lockwood had gently kissed a couple of hours before. Her hand felt ice cold compared to his lips._

* * *

I didn't know when I had fallen asleep, or how long I was dead to the world. A voice roused me from my sleep. I assumed it was Holly, she was the only one to come calling for lunch or dinner if I was missing. How long did I sleep? The only thing that was around me to tell an accurate sense of time was the sun, that had been high in the sky when I climbed the tree. Now it was barely on the horizon, peaking in from between buildings across the way.

I started out into the direction of the burning ball of gas, exploding a thousand times a second, billions of miles away from us. Then again, the Earth revolved in an ellipsis (an oval axis) around the sun due to the pull of gravity. How scientists chalked up an actual number for the distance between the Earth and the Sun, a straight number, when that distance depends on how far we are or close we are to the sun, is beyond me. Then again, miles and meters were all just concepts made to try to measure a unit in space. If space is infinite, and metric units made up to fathom its humongous extension across a never-ending plain, how are space and the space between worlds and objects able to fit to sensically into our made up measurements?

It's all so vast, yet so unknown to the human race that we create algorithms and theories that try to calculate and fit every tiny thing the universe into to one simple paragraph. But we will never be able to. All the knowledge we would acquire over the years and years of us finding answers will never satisfy our thirst for knowledge. And all that knowledge will go to waste as our generations will begin to grow ignorant and lose all of the knowledge before their time.

But since when was I ever the philosophical type?

As I sat up, I began to notice a growing pain in my side. Probably due to the amount of time I spent lying on a branch. But sitting up, I took it upon myself to look down at the ground, by my side. A pair of dark eyes bore into my own and I was taken aback by the suddenness of my find. I squealed and jumped a bit toward the edge to gain some distance between the eyes and myself; I had almost fallen out of the tree, that is, if a pair of arms hadn't latched onto my waist to steady me.

"I didn't know the great Luce could squeal, it was rather cute." A humorous chuckle came from the possessor of these big, glimmering eyes. I knew who it was. Did I want to acknowledge the fact he had heard me yelp and called me cute afterward?

Not a chance.

"Yes, well, I do that when I am startled..." I mumbled under my breath, my eyes looking in every direction other than him. He wanted to stay the way we were before, right? So playing pretend might do me some good. I didn't want to make it awkward on him if that's what he wanted. Although it hurt me to do so, his wishes were my mantras. I followed them if it was important to him. In this case, my inferences were probably correct to some extent. I just needed to keep calm. That's it. All I had to do.

"Good to know." He looked like he was lost in some type of thought. What about, I had yet to find out. "Lucy... I was wondering..." Hope rose in my chest. A small flighty feeling drew in the pit of my stomach. My eyes turned to meet his. They were trying to figure out what to say, two thoughts fighting, giving arguments to back up their statements, yet looking like a peaceful pendulum, swinging back and forth in a timely manner. As I waited for what felt like hours, the hope kept building that he would say something, anything, about what was going on in his head.

"Does the skull still think Marissa is Penelope Fitties?" and just like that, my eyes left his, my hair falling on my face covering it. I suppose 'Hope' is another word for an extended grace period of disbelief before the reality hits.

"Yes, He does. Why do you ask?" I didn't look up as I got down from the tree. I didn't look at him as I plopped down to the ground gently, leaving no heavy footprints in the dirt below.

"I think we should go and investigate. See if the skull is actually right or if it's just fibbing and toying with us. If it is, well, we can at least say we say Marissa Fittes in person. Granted she would be dead, but it would still be quite a sight, don't you think?" I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to believe. Maybe I was just overreacting again. I had a habit of doing so. It would blow over soon, I just had to pretend, convince myself that it never happened. Maybe if I believed that it didn't I would feel better. Pretending was safe. All I had to do was act like the visit never happened and the pain would just fly off my shoulders. I had never done it before, but how hard could it be then finding a source in the house of a poltergeist?

"Certainly sounds like something you should bring up with George rather than me." My voice was curious and it didn't sound as hurt as I felt. That's good. Very good indeed.

"Oh... I suppose you are right," I could hear his bright grin playing on his lips. God my chest hurt. I ached to leave. "I'm going to stay ou-"

"I'm gonna take a nap, it's been a long day." I knew he was going to say for me to stay out here with him for a bit. I knew he cursed under his breath. I knew he reached out and had almost grabbed a hold of my arm. Yet I felt the wind as his arm brushed past mine by centimeters. I didn't care I left the skull behind and I didn't run, I walked. I silently, briskly walked. I walked up through the kitchen.

Into the living room.

Up the stairs.

Down my hallway.

And into my room, softly shutting the door behind me.

And my dresser lay the half-filled pad that I had spent made odd hours trying to get each picture just right. The same one that held a few small bloodstains on the front cover. The one with pleated lines. I took it in my hand, weighing it's worth. I lie on my bed, staring at it in my hand before setting it on my comforter. My window wide open to let the wind fly through my room and swish the pages to and frow from where it lay.

 _It's just a dumb sketchbook._

A dumb dumb sketchbook with drawings of him.

A stupid sketchbook that was flipping through page after page as I sat on my bed, clutching a pillow, close to tears. I hated love. I hated myself. But somehow, I knew I'd never hate Lockwood nor his choices. He wanted to keep me safe and I wanted the same for him. I couldn't do that in the field and hold my end that I wouldn't do something stupid and put myself in harm's way for him. I couldn't. And my guess was that neither could he. My thoughts gripped my head, hitting against the walls of my skull over and over rapidly. I shut my eyes, clutching my head, trying to make them go away. I just wanted them to leave.

 _Please just leave..._

Finally, I had had enough. In a fit of madness, I tore every page I had ever drawn him in. Every single one. Page by page.

And every single page few out my window, like the birds in Trafalgar Square. Their snowy wings carrying them far away from the place in which they were being held captive, twittering while dusk colored the sky. I could hear Holly calling out that dinner was done. I lay on my bed, not knowing what to do or say. So instead, I saved myself the grief and went to bed hungry. I lay there as the wind circled around me, not wanting to move or even change into my Pajamas. Listening to the white noise of the wind, entering and exiting my room, and constance it gave me. Slowly forgetting why I was even upset in the first place.

It was all I needed to fall into a deep sleep just before Holly came into the room to check up on me.

* * *

 **A/N: So, here is the continuation of the story as I promised. And I know it may not meet some of your standards and will probably give you a WTF moment, but hear me out for a few seconds, because I do have a reason.**

 **You see, If I continued the story how I was, I'd start running into TEG timeline, therefore, skewing the series. Personally, I want to use it. The next chapter is going to be DURING TEG and the final one will be after. My version of what happens after we leave off on the pages Stroud gives to us. So while this chapter was rather awful in terms of plot, I have a very good reason. This brings us to TEG lucy perspective. She is okay but confused and undaunted. I can't leave her a sniveling mess. So playing a 'Child's Game' seemed like the best option. It didn't happen, least not to her.**

 **But I swear I know where I am going with this.**

 **The next chapter will be very fluffy despite it being during TEG.**

 **And yes, It will be from Lockwood's Perspective.**

 **And thank you all so much for reviewing and liking this story! Like I said, I hadn't ever imagined continuing this story. I thought the ending was great on its own and didn't need more. However, I began to think of TEG, the last book of the series I read had while 'finishing' this story. To be honest, I thought it could use a better ending, and a bit more explaining from Lockwood. So look forward to the next two chapters because THIS WAS ONLY A MINOR SET BACK. FLUFF AWAITS AS DOES A PERFECT CONCLUSION I THINK EVERYONE CAN AGREE ON. plus it won't be OoC.**

 **Thank You so Much for Reading and Stay tuned!**

 **~Pheonix**


	5. His Strategy (Part 1)

I messed up! I know I did! I should have told her what I had been thinking, I should have swooned her-well, perhaps not that, but I should have done something other than mention that stupid, idiotic, sadist human cranium! I shouldn't have dodged the topic in exchange for a safer conversation! However, when you're scared enough, sometimes things like that just happen.

You don't mean them to, but even the worst ideas seem safe. It's like a lie. When you tell a lie, it's usually to save yourself from an on-coming conversation or topic, perhaps even consequence, that you do not wish to happen. So you tell a small fib instead of the truth. When you say it, it seems so harmless, and for some people, it is said so smoothly and without a second thought that even they will believe their own lies for the single purpose of saving their rumps. You don't mean any harm in it, you are just avoiding a bad situation. Done enough times, it can even become a habit. You forget the rules and regulations on lying, and when it all catches up to you, the original fear is not only doubled but so are the consequences. In these instances, sometimes everything you've worked for can slide through your fingers and shatter at your feet. So many things can be affected and suddenly ripped away from you; A job, perhaps a house, a driver's license, a relationship, even your basic rights.

So why do we do it? why do we avoid the topics we do not like and change the subject? It'll happen eventually and the situation may even grow worse in the time you spend avoiding it. What pleasure does it give? What satisfaction does it provide? Perhaps it is the temporary safety you feel once you know the 'bad topic' has been temporarily paused. It could also be to buy enough time to make the lie true. It could also be to give people a false sense of who you really are. In any case, they all seem to share the temporary feeling of security. Lying is like a false security measure. When the burglars first try to rob you, they will see it and bolt. However, once they find out the alarm is in no way real, everything in your home will be gone in seconds.

My home had not yet been robbed, but the feeling I had in just _setting_ the security system was worse than losing everything inside my house.

To top it off, I spent the next few hours after that searching for papers and reassembling a book that I should have never looked at. I could have been eating dinner, I could have been chatting away with everyone in the living room, heck I could have had a spot of tea with Florence if I really wanted to. But instead, I was roaming the streets, knocking on doors to try to pick up papers fallen in backyards, and sitting in my room trying to piece them all back together again.

I picked up each page with care and examined each one. Page after page of alarming detail and so much thought I could practically guess what she was thinking. Then again, I didn't have to guess, she told me. It was like each pencil stroke was a word and each line was a sentence. Every picture a short story. I was trying to reconstruct a glorious novel. I don't know how many tears left my eyes in my time looking at the drawings. I don't know how many paper cuts or scoldings from neighbours I received. But I did it anyway.

Even when I had finished in the late hours of that night, I didn't feel accomplished. If anything, I felt worse for ignoring her and letting George pin me down for "not exactly telling her". In my defence, he had yet to confess to Flo, but I didn't say that. I didn't tell him what happened. I let him drive a wedge between the almost healed wound. I let this... all of this... happen. As I stared at the sketches in the complete, make-shift book, I felt the emotions and thought of all the things I wanted to tell her. Everything I was too prideful and too afraid to say. I could stare death in the face, but nothing in this world will scare me as much as she does. Yet she is the only thing that I will cherish more than my Company.

I needed to find some way to tell her. I needed to do it before I missed the only few chances I had left. I conceived a plan. Then I thought better of it and formulated another. By dawn, I had made a small booklet of Ideas that, while not foolproof, where all designed to at least close the rift that was beginning to grow larger. All I had left to do was set one of them into motion.

And I figured the best place to start would be during our soon-to-be mission to Marissa's Tomb.

* * *

So, Marissa was NOT Marissa, there was a remnant inside the Tomb, and to top it off, Lucy had tried to talk to a ghost again- which didn't go too well at all.

I couldn't be mad at her, but I was certainly frustrated. Every time she tries to talk with a ghost she gets put in more danger than she has to be. Ghosts are people's souls who have felt they have been wronged or want to make a right. Maybe there are ghosts with no malicious intent, but they are few in numbers. To believe all ghosts only want something righted would be plain stupid. Lucy wasn't stupid, but as we ran up the dark staircase heading toward the exit of the Tomb, I was starting to believe she had a secret longing for death. I'll admit that I have had my fair share of death-related thoughts, but I'd rather die of natural causes than of ghost touch. I couldn't argue with her now, no matter how much I felt like it.

Yet even if I did want to chew her out, it was muddle by the thrill of finally being near her and running from a Raw Bones together. Not in the least bit romantic, but you cannot deny progress, even in the grotesque form of a haunted pile of bones chasing after us. I had lost my best rapier and was dashing up a long staircase with the most fantastic girl I had ever met. What could have gone wrong?

How about the rest of my company walking down toward us? I couldn't stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

"Oh, hell, _now_ what?" I could tell something was up, seeing as we all were supposed to be going in one direction, and that direction was up. Going against the tide should be saved for protesters and razors for men, not while you are running for your life. Lucy looked almost as dumbfounded as I did.

"What are you _doing_?" She shouted next to me. "Turn around! It's right behind us!" Holly was the first to respond.

"There's one up ahead to!"

"What? How?" I thought the exact same thing as Lucy said it.

"George triggered the wire. Stepped right on it. A stone moved- a ghost came out." I groaned internally, wondering how we were going to get out of this one. My mind was working overtime just to think of the possibilities. I missed the next couple of comments to my thinking, but I tuned in just in time to hear Kipps' loud barking.

"We're running for our lives up a haunted stairway and you're thinking about _something else_? How can that be possible?". I figured now would be the best time to chime in. This conversation was getting us nowhere fast. There was no time to talk about why George did exactly what I said not to do, -though if he was thinking about something else I hope it was his last will and testament- but that wasn't important. We needed to leave, not argue amongst ourselves I made my way to the front as I talked.

"Where's this new ghost?" I couldn't see it, so it was probably further up. I didn't get a response, so I continued. "Come on, we've got to go up. Going back is not an option." My team nodded. I took a quick glance to take not of our positions. George was slightly behind me, followed by Kipps and Holly, leaving Lucy and that Skull of hers to take the rear. My stomach churned at the thought of something happening to her while I wasn't there, but I needed to focus on the entire group. All of our lives were in the clutches of death and if I was too focused on one of them, the rest could be thrown into the dark abyss beside us.

As we reached the tripped wire, I saw the ghost they were talking about. It was an old woman, probably died in her seventies, wrinkly and boney. Her white shirt was a bit crinkled and her pale blue skirt stopped just below the knees. She even had a nice looking jacket on. Her long grey hair floated behind her like a vail as she unnervingly smiled. Her ghost was greyish, but her eyes looked like they had been replaced with black glossy marbles. The chill grew worse the closer we got. Miasma coated the ground we walked on. I shook my head in dismay. Couldn't my operatives handle an old woman?

"A little old lady? Terrifying. You've got rapiers, haven't you? Why aren't you using them?" George explained that the ghost emitted some kind of wind that almost tossed them over the side. I was starting to grow more frustrated in light of our new and problematic situation. I can't remember what I said next, I think it was related to Bunnchurch, but I am not quite sure. However, what I remember was taking George's iron rapier and walked up toward the rather alarming figure blocking our exit.

As soon as it saw me, a wind picked up. It was so strong that I could lean into it and not hit the ground, but as much as I would like to try that, The lives of my comrades were more important. I was barely inching toward it, each step taking more force that trekking through mud. When I got close enough, jabbed at the spectral form. The Lady hissed and the wind stopped. I took the opportunity the advance, putting all the practising I had done to good use. She dodged my attacks but was gradually being pushed back further up the stairway. I could hear Lucy talking and a few mumbles here and there, but I tried to pay attention to the woman in front of me. She would try to lunge at me, but my quick swordsmanship made for a very nice shield against the phantom. The whole thing maybe lasted only a minute or two.

Suddenly Her form was beginning to look a bit hazy as she moved, something seeming to be pulling her horizontally off the edge of the stairwell. I kept swiping, just in case, but not even a second later, I was swiping at air, looking somewhat like an idiot. I stopped and quickly looked back at my troop. Alarmingly, it was at the same time the clamouring bones came into view and lunged. My eyes widened, remembering who was in the back, but as I looked down, Holly swiped at the ghoul, catching its shoulder. It teetered for a moment, but it didn't fall off the edge. I groaned outwardly. Next thing I knew I was behind George and Holly trying to get up the stairs. I could still hear Lucy in the back, talking in distress. No matter how many times I wanted to stop I couldn't. No matter how many time I wished I was the caboose, I wasn't.

Eventually, we reached the exit, It was narrow and I was practically shoving George inside, but I managed to get him through. I Lucy was shouting behind Kipps at her skull, the remnant must have been practically on top of her by now. Quickly, I went through the tunnel, helping Kipps in after me.

"Grab the flagstone!" My order towards Kipps was acknowledged with a nod. God that thing was heavy, but 'heavy' was a much lighter consequence than 'death by a ghost'. As soon as I saw that Luce was safely out, Kipps and I closed the exit, -extremely loudly, may I add that a wince and "the Guards..." followed the action of closing the door- panting a bit once the deed was done. I thought we were done.

"No, no Iron... No... Lockwood." Her voice changed into alarm during the last word. I knew what it meant, and I didn't like it. All of us backed away from the door as the being dislocated itself from its bones. I was a man, definitely wronged, but in what way I did not know. What I did know as it creeped out from the flagstone, was the direction it was heading. George and Holly were the furthest away and Kipps was failing to draw his weapon. Lucy was trying to back up away from the thing as it slowly moved toward her. I quickly looked around and grabbed a flare somewhere beside me. Our eyes caught for a brief second before hers were back on the ghost. I could hear static hums coming from the being, but only enough to tell that Lucy was listening to it again. Fear rose in my system, forcing me to yell out for her to move out of the way. She didn't move. "wait." The Ghost moved closer, trying to encase her and give her no escape. My limbs were ready to go. I wished I still had George's Rapier.

"Lucy! Move!"

The static grew louder, and then the apparition disappeared. I sighed for a moment, but was promptly at her side, checking her over. Lucy was covered in dust and cobwebs, hair tangled, backpack scratched with ectoplasm. Yet even then, she was still the single most amazing woman I had ever met. "Lucy?"

"I'm all right." She had a frown on her face, and I worried that she wasn't 'all right'. Maybe the ghost did something?

"what did it do to you?" The corners of her mouth lifted a bit.

"Nothing, Lockwood...," Her lips fell again. "Have we ever had a Ghost client?" That seemed strange. Even for her, that should have been an easy question.

"Of course not. Why?" Lucy's back fell back on the stone behind her when she spoke.

"Because I think we've just been given a job" Now it was my turn to frown.

"Job. From a Ghost?" A nod was given in response. I sighed. I knew if I didn't help, she would find a way to accomplish the job given to her on her own. At least this way I'd know what that job was and that she'd be safe doing it.

"Well, what does it want then?" A small flicker lit her eyes, even in the light darkness that surrounded us.

* * *

Phase One was not very well thought out but again, progress is progress. That is unless it's regressing progress, then you have a problem. But, for now, We were back to being a well-oiled machine again. I was still unnerved about the Tufnell case, after seeing that Charley boy, but after the cemetery visit, I really didn't have much to worry about. Lucy and I were talking again. Granted I did most of it, but with what she did say, it meant leaps and bounds more. I would have never thought that my parents grave site would have lead to me talking about everything.

I don't like to talk about the past, because that's just what it is. The past. You can wake up in the present and live your life just as happy with no recollection of the past to haunt your waking dreams or slumbering nightmares. The only satisfaction it gives it to look back on it and say 'look how far I've come'; After that, the past is nothing to scream about. Even so, sharing it with Lucy Carlyle was one of the nicest feelings I have had in a while.

But I couldn't dawdle. I had to keep my head on straight and stay focused. La Belle Dame Sans Merci was not a ghost that you wanted to ignore. I was glad Holly made sure everyone was here on time, even George. He told me all about the run-in with Rupert. I wasn't really that surprised at what George had done. The man had the audacity to insult Florence in front of George. If you ask me, Gale had it coming to him.

The seating in the auditorium was massive, probably able to hold a little under 4,000 people on seats alone. The voms were maybe the length of two average people standing side by side with enough room not to bump into one another. The lit candles and snuffed limelights, looked like they had been collected over the years of Tufnell running the place. Most of them were directed at the stage with only their plain lights, but a few had colours and decorative plates used to make shapes on-stage. it was very injenuitive of Tufnell, and no doubt had been thought up by some other person on his crew. However, it was rather ingenious.

We had already split up, Lucy and George to the back, Holly on stage, and Kipps and me in the voms. I was a bit worried, seeing as my team would be out of sight, but seeing this place- The red felt covering the seats in each row embellished with a gold lining, the carpeted walkways, the balcony shiny and clean- I could almost feel comfortable with it. Then again, knowing a ghost was in here that feeds off of emotion didn't help my growing anxious thoughts. Lucy would be fine, I knew she would be.

As I walked around taking temperature measurements, I began to lose focus. My mind was far gone into my memories and thoughts. I kept thinking about how Jessica would have loved this place or how Mother would have brought us here for fun. Father would have wanted to study La Belle. And everyone would have loved Lucy. Even mother, who had insanely high standards. I could imagine the outings and the good times we would have had. The entire company, my family, me: all in one place sharing a laugh.

 _"Lockwood?"_

A voice drifted me out of my thoughts as I turned around to see who it was. When I turned around, everything faded. The red seats began to dissolve into valleys and the balcony into a pale blue sky. The vom I was in transformed into a dirt path. I didn't know why everything was different, but truth be told, it didn't seem alarming to me at all. Everything was so nice, so lovely, that I was fine with the sudden change. A heavy, yet rather pleasant, breeze ruffled my coat and swept through my hair. Everything felt so right. I don't even think I was thinking.

 _"Lockwood."_

I turned around to find a beautiful girl in a white dress. Her haircut barely past her shoulders, delicate fingers clasped together behind her back, signature smile printed on her face. The flower petals danced around her, carried by the wind that blew her hair and dress sideways. Brown eyes gleamed with amusement as they stared at me. I could hardly breathe. I could hardly think. Lucy took a few steps back, beckoning me with a wave of her hand. I followed without question.

Maybe I did doubt the in front of me. Maybe I had thought twice. But I don't remember hesitating to follow her through that rippling field. Her brown locks bouncing from her shoulders into the air as she took graceful strides forward toward some unknown direction. Her fair skin glistening in the soft rays of the sun, her body swaying to an unheard tune. The only footsteps heard was my own. The only voice I heard was hers, coaxing me to follow her. I was entranced by her, infatuated with her, trying my best to close the distance she kept as she continued to move ahead of me.

Eventually, I spotted something in the distance. A blanket, red, laying in the field. On top of it were food, drinks, plates, and most of all people. I could see the smiling faces of my parents, of my sister, all of them waiting for me just distances ahead. It was like a dream coming true. All of their joy and happiness radiating off of them as we got closer. Their expressions so real and so full of emotion, as if they had never died at all. Instead, they were here, waiting for me, having a picnic all this time. I could hear my mother's voice, begging me to join them on the blanket. Lucy was already there, sitting next to Jess, laughing and giggling with her. Even my father was overjoyed, for a reason I couldn't explain.

They all opened their arms in an embrace. I wanted so badly to join them. To be with them once more. I went to reach my hand toward them, my yearning overriding my common sense. I was almost there when an unknown force knocked me to the side. I couldn't fathom what had stopped me, nor what kept me down on the ground, but all I knew is that I couldn't get up. My body struggled to power through the invisible chains that held me back from being whole again. My parents were screaming. Jessica looked worried. Lucy was crying, wetting her spaghetti strap. I had to stop it, stop the agony, stop it all. The dead images of my mother and father, the burnt face of my sister, the pain of my Luce; Why was I forced to relive this?

I cried out, trying to fight against whatever it was that kept me confined to the ground. I could hear her voice. So clearly, so pained.

"Lockwood!" something stung my cheek, almost like a slap. I wanted to reach her sobbing form, I wanted to get to her.

"Lockwood...," There came a pause as her voice cracked. "It's me."

"It's me. It's Lucy..."

All at once, everything became clear again. The delusion began to fade as Tufnell's reappeared. I was standing, not laying down. There were scorch marks on the perfect stage that I didn't remember being there earlier. Then again, I didn't remember going onto the stage in the first place. As my mind cleared and everything resurfaced, Lucy was still in front of me, still crying, there as her perfect self, clad in agent gear. I smiled down at her, softly, gazing at her beautiful image.

"Hey, Luce..."

And with that, I was slapped across the face twice.

Still not sure if I deserved that or not, but I was so baffled at the time that I wouldn't be able to tell.

* * *

After everything with DEPRAC and Barnes, I was ready to go home, and, by the looks of it, so was everyone else. Holly and Kipps had filled me in on the events the had transpired during my time in the dreamland. I was shocked, but not very surprised. If anything I mostly felt gratitude toward Lucy for saving my life. George had tried pestering me on what it was like, but, to be honest, all I could remember then was La Belle Dame's version of Lucy, leading toward some random destination. I didn't tell him that, of course, I just said it was like a drunken stupor or a blackout. I could tell he didn't quite believe me, but he didn't pester me further.

We all waited, George Holly and Kipps sipping tea from plastic cups and I staring at the back of Lucy's head as she stared into the distance. The morning was cold. Eventually, I drew up the courage to stand beside her and start up a conversation. I looked out into the horizon as I spoke.

"I haven't said a proper thank-you."

"it's all right," She replied.

"I know what you did for me." Her mouth tightened a bit, clearly not fond of the memory.

"Swung down on a bloody trapeze was what I did, Lockwood."

"I know."

"I hate heights."

"I know that."

"I hate trapezes."

"Yes."

"Don't you ever make me do something so ridiculous and dangerous again."

"Lucy, I won't. I promise." I grinned, amused slightly at her obvious disdain for her actions. "But listen- you were amazing. Holly told me. Kipps, too- he saw the part from when you landed on the crash pad." Her face cringed.

"Oh, he didn't see _that_ bit, did he? God." I rolled my eyes a bit, not that she had seen.

"You saved my life." Her face went from cringe to expressionless.

"Yes, I did."

"Thank you." After that, she expressed her worries and I countered some of them, trying to make her see that it wasn't her fault, nor was it anyone else's fault. She had explained why she had been entranced by La Belle Dame and turned to face me. She asked me what I was thinking when La Belle pulled me in. I could see it in her eyes that she already had her own idea of what it was, but I doubted that she was right. I was afraid to tell her the reason. Who knows what she would do this time if she found out that a ghost tried to kill me using her as a lure? I pulled at my collar and answered that I didn't know. Again she expressed worry for me. I felt terrible for making her worry like this.

A few moments later, the DEPREC vans left, Barnes waved good-bye as he followed them. I stayed quiet until everything settled once more, meaning my thoughts and the dirt on the roads. "I know you're worrying about me, Luce, but you really mustn't. These things happen when you're an agent. You've been snared by ghosts in the past, haven't you? There was that one with the bloody fingerprints, the thing in the tunnels below Aickmere Brothers store. But it's fine. because I helped you then, and you've helped me now. We're there to help each other. If we do that, we'll get through."

I saw her eyes brighten a bit and a small smile graced her lips. I meant every word. I'd save her with my dying breath if I could. That night, when we went home, Holly and Kipps took separate Cabs and George, Lucy, and I went back home. I paid for the taxi fare (not by choice) and George hogged all the water. eventually, he made the food and all of us helped ourselves. But as I ate, I could help but look at Lucy.

Even in my weary state and her being a ruffled mess, I could still see her perfection. I, on the other hand, would probably never be half as great. I began to doubt my original plan. I couldn't wait around for things to fix themselves. I couldn't wait for her to make a move. If I was ever to live up to Carlyle standards, I had to make things happen. But I needed something to help me. I just didn't know what in the world could equate or even come close to Luce's impossible elegance.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so here it is. I am so sorry for the wait, this is a two-parter and then the last and FINAL chapter will be posted. However, part two will be a while. Again, I own none of the characters, nor the book during which these events take place. I have been so insanely busy along with a heavy lack of motivation.**

 **Do not worry, I still love Lockwood and Co. It's like a second family that will never leave me. But have you ever felt so alone that even when you go to write something heartfelt and compelling that you can't seem to write it correctly? I like to add raw emotion to my stuff, so I make sure to feel what my character is feeling or know a very similar feeling. Lately, I couldn't find it in myself to even pretend. I am slowly pulling myself out of the trench and writing again, but the next chapter will take time. Just know, I have not given up, just taken a rather long break.**

 **To people with parents who are divorced or getting a divorce, I hope you can find some type of solace or happiness in my writing. A small tidbit about me, My parents have been divorced since I was five. My father remarried soon after and my mother moved on with her life. My stepmother is a pimple, my father changed, my mother has a backbone of steel, and everyone wonders why I am such an emotional person with a huge imagination. I used to be driven from Stanislaus County in California to Kern County. 3 hours one way on Friday, 3 hours the other way on Sunday. I hated it. As a kid, I couldn't understand why my parents were living in different places, nor why they fought for hours, nor why I lived with my grandparents for a few years. When you're small, everything is so confusing, I had been bounced around, never really having a place to call home. So I called everything Home. "Home" was where I thought I was sleeping.**

 **My heart goes out to those who do know where home is. And to those who may have no home at all.**

 **A special thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter.**

 **Stay Tuned and Thanks for Reading!**

 **~Pheonix**


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